


Meet Me Halfway

by PsychoSister



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Regular!Bushroot meets Mutated!Liquidator, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27321055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychoSister/pseuds/PsychoSister
Summary: Dr.Reginald Bushroot, a meek, not-overly-attractive botanist, considers his life fairly boring and lacking of anything noteworthy....well, except for a certain liquid-themed supervillain who seems to take a liking to him- THAT may be a LITTLE noteworthy..
Relationships: Reginald Bushroot/Liquidator
Comments: 26
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Halfway there](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21203339) by [SandyFeral](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandyFeral/pseuds/SandyFeral). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long day at work, Dr.Bushroot arrives at his greenhouse to a certain uninvited guest watering his garden for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, ages ago I read Sandyferal's "Halfway There" (go read it, it's SO good xD) and said in the comments that I liked their version of the two meeting with Bushroot mutated and Buddy unmutated, and that if no one else wrote the opposite, then I'd probably do it. Well, here we are xD

Ah, the scenic countryside of Saint Canard: Large open spaces. Fresh air. Trees and uncut green grass as far as the eye could see. It was probably one of the most natural areas around for miles and miles. The only thing that stood out as remotely man-made was the gleaming glass of a small building- and even THAT was full of more lovely, all-natural vegetation and greenery.

Walking up the path to the greenhouse on the hill was a short male duck who looked far too glum for such a lovely backdrop. He had white feathers, but those looked thin and unkempt- similar to the few wispy strands of hair that seemed to only refuse falling out just so they could give him the unfortunate appearance of age even further than his own. He had bright blue eyes, but the eyelids around them were dark with a few bags under his eyes that just made him look exhausted. Even his basic outfit of a yellow shirt, dark tie, blue pants, simple shoes, and a gray overcoat only seemed to make him look both older and more exhausted from how rumpled they looked.

After fishing the keys to the greenhouse out of his pocket, and a brief fumbling with the lock, the duck walked into the greenhouse with a weary sigh. “Hey everyone, sorry I’m late.” He mumbled while taking off his coat and hanging it on a tree branch. “You must be thirsty, huh? This heatwave’s been hard on all of us.” He headed straight for the gardening hose in the corner of the greenhouse while rolling up his sleeves, unsurprised by the lack of a response from the various flora around him.

What he was surprised by, however, was the fact that the hose had come uncoiled since he’d last wrapped it yesterday. Wondering if maybe he’d just forgotten to wind it up properly, the duck took a brief look around the humid building and was surprised to see that the soil around most of the plants looked damp- as if it had just been watered.

“Huh? How the heck did that happen?” He quietly asked nobody in particular. Setting the hose aside, he followed the trail of watered plants and a glistening trail of dew on the grass from one end of the small building to the other.

It certainly looked like someone had been watering his plants, but who could have done such a thing? And why? It’s not like that many people took an interest in botany in this town- most of them worked down at the university with him (and most of that select few were jerks)- and, even if it were one of them, he was the only one with a key to the greenhouse. Maybe it was Rhoda? The two of them had been getting along rather well lately, maybe she-

That thought quickly died and gave way to a million more when he pushed aside a large leaf from one of his bushes and spotted the helpful culprit kneeling down by his cluster of nigella damascena.

It certainly wasn’t _Rhoda_.

It wasn’t even a **duck**.

He wasn’t really sure **_WHAT_** it was.

Startled by the sight of the oddity in his greenhouse, the duck tried to step back the way he came in hopes of running away without being seen, but his plans were uprooted- by a literal root, no less. “Ah!” He let out a startled yelp when the heel of his shoe snagged the root of a nearby tree and he fell to the ground, landing squarely on his quickly bruising tail feathers. “Ouch! I’ll feel that in the morning..” He mumbled while rubbing his sore backside, momentarily forgetting about the intruder he’d just been avoiding.

“Well now,” A watery voice said as a blue, nearly see-through hand pulled back the very same leaf that the duck himself had been peeking through a moment ago. “Let’s see what’s behind curtain number one!”

With the leaf gone, the duck could now see the creature even more clearly: It was a being made entirely out of water. From its features, it was likely a canine of some kind before…whatever happened to turn it into some weird water monster. It was also taller than the duck (which, honestly, didn’t take much with how short he was), making the way it looked down on him with a taunting smirk and a raised brow even more intimidating.

“I-I was just, uh-!” The smaller man stared up at the unknown water-creature in fear, trying to slide further away from it but wincing when his bruised tail bone hit one of the thicker roots nearby. “Yeowch!”

“In a rush to get away? Experiencing symptoms of fear and anxiety?” The liquid canine sounded like a door-to-door salesman as he extended one of his limbs to pick the smaller duck up by the collar of his shirt. “If so, then you may be dealing with a SUPERVILLAIN!” He flashed that deadly smirk up at the helpless duck once he had him raised high up off the ground. “As part of today’s peeping-tom special, say your last words now and you will meet a swift and painless end- act now, this is a limited time offer!”

The duck was frightened. Obviously. How could he not be? He was dealing with a living body of water that seemed perfectly fine with ending him simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. While he really didn’t want to die, there was one thought that crossed his mind between boring flashes of his life and fits of existential panic-

“C-Can you make sure my plants are watered when I’m gone…?” He stuttered a bit at first, trying in vain to grasp onto the shifting liquid arm currently holding him up in an attempt to feel more stable.

“??” That actually made the aggressive mutant pause, blink twice in surprise, and look up at him with a more baffled expression than his previously sinister one. “Your plants?”

“Well, yeah..” The duck looked around at the variety of lovingly cultivated greenery across the building. “These guys require frequent watering- especially when it’s this hot out! I was worried some of them would start to wilt before I got to it today, but you helped them out a lot. You even got the ratios right for the more temperamental ones, so, thank you.”

The dog still looked confused by the duck’s words. “Wait, wait, **wait**.” He cocked a brow up at his hostage, though it was more curious than threatening like it was before. “You’re being threatened by a dangerous mutant- one that broke into your building, by the way- and you’re going to compliment and ask favors from him?”

“Um.........yes?” The duck answered hesitantly. “I mean, I’d rather you NOT kill me, but if I’m going to die I’d at least like to know that my plants will be okay and you seem to like them- OW!” He let out a startled yelp that turned into a pained groan when he suddenly fell to the ground. “Owww, did you have to drop me like that?” He whimpered while placing both hands on his sore back, feeling like something had been pulled the wrong way during the fall.

“Oh, not again..” He heard the mutant mutter quietly, his voice almost inaudible.

When the bruised and sore mallard looked back up at the mutant, he was surprised to see that he was missing an arm now- the arm that had been holding him up earlier, to be precise. The aquatic dog was also glaring ruefully down at a small puddle of water on the ground between himself and the duck. He kept glaring at it for a while, but it looked more like he was concentrating. Perhaps he was trying to get the water to do something?

It was then that the duck realized a few other parts of the mutant’s body didn’t look very stable at the moment and were dripping down into a growing puddle where his feet would be.

Despite the fact that mere seconds ago this mutant had been perfectly at peace with ending the duck’s life, he couldn’t help but ask the question on reflex.

“Are you alright?” He carefully got to his feet, using the tree he’d tripped over earlier for balance so as not to further agitate his back.

“Just experiencing some technical difficulties.” The increasingly drippy mass complained as he continued glaring at the puddle that was still growing around him.

“Is there anything I can do?” The duck asked after popping a stiff joint in his back and relieving some of his discomfort. “Do you, I don’t know, need more water or something?”

“Probably..” The mutant muttered absentmindedly. It wasn’t until the duck had walked away and returned after a few moments that he finally looked back at the other man since dropping him, and the sight of him holding a garden hose that was already swelling with the pressure of an unreleased stream made him let out a mildly amused but pitiful chuckle. “You know, nine out of ten doctors would advise against helping dangerous supervillains who just tried to kill you.”

“Then it’s a good thing for you that I’m the tenth doctor.” The duck joked with a nervous smile before twisting the nozzle on the hose to release a steady stream straight at the living puddle.

The extra dose of water seemed to do the trick and soon the watery villain was back to his previous form. After moving and flexing his arms and hands a few times to make sure they were stable again, he looked back to the duck with a tilt of his head. “You know, I could go back to attacking you now.”

“I-I know..” The shorter man turned off the hose when it looked like the taller one no longer needed his help and set it aside. “But…do you really want to?” He offered up that nervous smile again, hoping that would be enough to convince the canine to spare his life.

The dangerous dog stared him down for a good minute before letting out a light huff and shaking his head. “Not really. That was a limited time offer that’s already expired.”

The duck sighed in relief. “Oh, good.” There was an awkward, tense silence for a while between them. A distinctive “What now?” moment weighed heavily between them. What are you supposed to say/do after nearly killing/nearly being killed by a complete stranger and then being saved by/saving said stranger? “So…uh…what’s your name?” The duck tried to break the ice, cringing internally at how forced the politeness sounded.

“Names are still being run through a test audience.” The dog said before leaning back against one of the trees. “But ‘The Liquidator’ seems to be scoring well on the customer surveys.”

“The Liquidator? Wow, that does sound like a cool name for a supervillain.” The duck smiled a bit, still feeling reasonably nervous around the villainous mass of liquid. “My name’s Dr.Bushroot, but you can call me Reginald, if you want.”

The Liquidator gave a light huff of a laugh and smiled back slightly as well. “Dr.Bushroot? Quite a marketable name for a botanist- you should try making your own miracle grow, consumers would go crazy for ‘Dr.Bushroot’s Plant Medicine- just what the doctor ordered’!”

Bushroot laughed as well, his face lighting up with a less nervous smile. “I never thought of that. Then again, I don’t exactly have a good face for TV.”

“Oh, that’s easy enough to fix.” Liquidator reached over and poked at Bushroot’s head. “A little make-up, a decent toupee, and a catchy jingle can sell anything, trust me!” He chuckled before catching himself and glancing away. “Not that **_I_** ever needed to wear make-up or a toupee, of course- I’ve always been a top ten contender for ‘best looking men in business’, so I never needed to go to those kinds of lengths…” His eyes shifted back over to Bushroot and narrowed dangerously. “Making any claims otherwise will void the extended-warranty on your life, got it?”

“G-Got it..” Bushroot swallowed nervously before regaining a bit of his earlier expression. “Besides, even if you DID do that-” He quickly held up both hands and shook his head to show he wasn’t suggesting otherwise. “-does it look like I’ve got any room to judge? I’m not exactly a Mr.Corn-Fritters’ pageant finalist..”

“Hmm..maybe not a finalist..” The other man agreed with a slow nod while looking the short bird over slowly from head to toe. Whatever he saw, he seemed to like, however, because the smile he regained had something a bit more..enticing to it than before. “Perhaps a runner up, though.”

“Huh?” Bushroot blinked in surprise before waving the comment off with a short laugh, figuring it for a joke. “Ha-ha, good one.” A beep from his watch made him check his wrist and realize the time. “Oh! I need to finish watering everything so I can get started on the weeding.”

When he went to pick up the hose, however, a cool, wet hand stopped him. He looked up into the crystal-clear face above him and saw that same grin from before, now coupled with a wink. “Why deal with the hassle of clunky dollar-store garden hoses when you’ve got the amazingly mobile and purified-powers of the Liquidator at your disposal?”

“Really?” Bushroot blinked in surprise at the generous offer.

Liquidator’s smile softened slightly at the edges, but he tried to play it off with a casual shrug. “It’s the least I can do after my rude introduction. A good salesman should always show respect for the man of the house, after all!”

“Well, if you’re sure, that would be great. Thanks!” He gave his new acquaintance (possibly friend?) the brightest smile yet before running off to get his gardening gloves from the supply locker in the corner of the room.

“…......” With his back turned to his new intruder-turned-acquaintance, Bushroot missed the stunned look on the mutant’s face that slowly morphed into a fond smile. “No thanks are needed- I pride myself on quality customer service, after all.”

As the two began their individual assignments within the greenhouse, Bushroot decided to get to know his new friend (he was allowed to be hopeful, darn it). “Sooo…a supervillain, huh? What made you want to go into that line of work?” He tried to get the conversation drumming up again with basic small-talk while pulling some weeds that had sprung up around his rose bushes.

Liquidator glanced over his shoulder at the small scientist and gestured to his body with one hand, his other one currently transformed into a facsimile of a watering can as he went about watering the plants he had not gotten to before Bushroot’s arrival. “One look at this one-of-a-kind product should answer all your questions about my new career path.”

“O-Oh, right, sorry…” Bushroot’s face heated up in embarrassment- he supposed that **_should_** have been an easy answer to come to, he just hadn’t thought of it before opening his mouth. “I haven’t seen you on the news before, are you new in town?” That one felt a bit safer to talk about.

“New to town in general? No. New to town as the incredible aquatic supervillain known as ‘the Liquidator’? Yes.” Liquidator explained while sprinkling water over a cluster of vines. “I haven’t quite had my big break as a supervillain yet- I’m saving THAT for a special occasion.” He let out an irritated growl when his hand lost its previous watering-can shape and he glared at it for a moment. “And for when this body’s out of beta testing…” That part caught Bushroot’s attention, he wondered ho- “And if you’re about to ask how I became the tall drink of water you see now, I’m afraid that’s going to be voiding a few confidentiality agreements, so save that question for a rainy day.”

Shoot, he really wanted to hear that story…

Wait, he said it could wait for another day? Did that mean he would be seeing him again after today? Did that make them friends??

“Okay…” He tried not to let on how excited and hopeful he felt over that prospect- it had been so long since he’d actually had a friend! “How’d you get in here, anyway?”

“You’re choosing NOW to ask that?” Liquidator chuckled after finally getting his hand back to its previous shape so he could continue his work. “You know, most people would want THAT answer _first_.” He shook his head with an amused grin before pointing at the gardening hose that Bushroot himself had used to assist him earlier. “I wanted some fresh air, and this was the first exit I found that didn’t smell like bleach or a petting zoo. Like any good salesman, I knocked first, but nobody was home.”

“That’s because I got held up at work.” Bushroot explained with a frustrated frown and roughly pulled out a weed from a different spot in his garden. “The dean keeps calling me in for meetings, wanting to see if I’ve made any new breakthroughs.” His frustration turned to disappointment as he paused in his work. “At this point, I think he’s just calling me in to rub my failures in my face…”

“It’s always hard getting someone to invest in your ideas…” Bushroot’s back was to Liquidator again as he worked, so he missed the sympathetic frown on Liquidator’s face as he looked at the other man. “What sort of research are you working on?” He asked while bringing himself around casually to water the shrub next to the one that Bushroot was currently rescuing from the weeds at its base.

“Oh, it’s nothing special..” The duck said with a sigh that sounded defeated before he even began. “You wouldn’t really want to hear about it….”

“Oh, but I do!” He lowered his form with some difficulty so that his feetless legs were kneeling by Bushroot, putting him at eye-level with the botanist so he could see the grin on the dog’s face. “Hearing out every unusual or impossible theory and business plan was part of what made me a success in my previous line of work. So, please, inquiring minds are eager to know: What brilliant breakthrough is the soon-to-be-famous Dr. Reginald Bushroot working on?”

Bushroot really wanted to dismiss the question altogether. He’d had enough of his coworkers laughing at him, he didn’t need it from anyone else…

…………

But there was just something in the way that Liquidator looked at him that made it hard for him to deny him anything.

“Well..” Bushroot began after a minute, still a bit hesitant but pushing himself past the feelings of doubt and uncertainty he was so used to. “I’ve been conducting research on how to give people the ability to photosynthesize and live off of sunlight and water like plants.”

Liquidator’s eyes widened in surprise, looking genuinely shocked to hear such a thing. “That’s actually possible?”

The way he said it made a warm feeling bloom in Bushroot’s chest: It was a sincere question. The disbelief in his voice came from surprise that someone would be able to make such a thing reality, rather than the mocking disbelief that such a thing would ever be possible- the disbelief that he was **_used_** to hearing when he told people about his work. The only other person who had ever shown genuine interest in his theories was Rhoda, and she was a fellow scientist who could look at his findings and research from a logical perspective- not like this stranger who didn’t appear to have a background in botanical research (though he was good at judging how much water his plants needed, so he must have at least worked with them at some point).

“Yes, it is.” He was practically beaming as he turned to fully face his new friend and go more in-depth with his explanation. “We already get a few minerals from drinking water and absorb radiation from the sun to create vitamin D, but plants are able to get all of that plus many other benefits from things like the very air around us. All it should take is the right infusion of plant cells into a person’s body and they should be able to gain the extra nutrients from water and sunlight that plants get- not to mention the ability to breathe in carbon dioxide and exhale oxygen would really help cut down on the world’s growing pollution problem. It’s been my life’s work, and I’m very close to a major breakthrough in my research!” He realized towards the end of his explanation that he’d gotten overly excited and had started leaning in closer to the water dog. Quickly becoming embarrassed, he backed off and rubbed at the back of his neck nervously while avoiding eye contact. “Sorry, that was a bit too much, wasn’t it?”

He was surprised by the feeling of a cool, wet hand on his shoulder. When he looked back up to meet the dark blue pools that made up the other’s eyes, he saw a genuine, understanding smile on the mutant’s face. “Not at all. Passion is the driving force behind many great breakthroughs and achievements in life. If _you’re_ not passionate about what you do, how can you expect others to get invested in it?” The hand on Bushroot’s shoulder gave it a firm, reassuring squeeze. “Never give that up, Dr.Bushroot.”

The duck felt his heart skip a beat the same way it did whenever Rhoda stood up for him in front of his colleagues- the same way it did when she smiled at him and listened to him about his research. Maybe he just liked having someone believe in him. Maybe he was just touch-starved and feeling the weight of someone else’s hand on him, even if it was made of water and not quite as warm as one made of flesh and bone, was enough to make him feel a connection with someone.

Or maybe, just maybe, he really was forming a genuine connection with the watery supervillain who had broken into his greenhouse and threatened his life.

“C-Call me Reggie.” He managed to say after swallowing down a lump in his throat and fighting to keep the blush from his cheeks (his thin feathers wouldn’t have done much to hide the change in pigmentation).

“Reggie,” The Liquidator began with a grin that spread quickly across his blue face. “I think this is the beginning of a wonderful new relationship!”

Bushroot hadn’t agreed with anything (or smiled) more in his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just a heads up, this is another one of my Halloween "trick or treat" stories, so it's a WIP that may be a while before I fully update ^^"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liquidator prepares to enact his ingeniously evil plan to rob St.Canard of its water supply and put the town in a crisis...but he has a bit of a soft spot for a certain botanist, so he gives him a heads-up and helps him prepare for what's to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit shorter than the last, sorry ^^"

After their first encounter in the greenhouse, running into the Liquidator became a more and more frequent occurrence over the following two weeks. Bushroot would often go to his greenhouse and find the aquatic canine already there, watering his plants for him, or his new friend would pop up from the garden hose not too long after his arrival. The pair would then spend hours talking about their day (though Bushroot tended to do most of the talking in that regard with Liquidator merely listening and interjecting when appropriate) while Bushroot tended to his plants or worked on the newest phases of his experiment and Liquidator either helped out or tested out a new ability.

Their frequent meetups at the greenhouse seemed to be mutually beneficial for both men involved: Bushroot had someone to help maintain the specific watering cycles his precious plants needed every day, as well as someone to share his latest scientific discoveries with. Meanwhile Liquidator, whom Bushroot was at first concerned wouldn’t get as much out of their frequent interactions, got a place to breath in some fresh air for a while as well as a safe environment to experiment with and refine his water-based powers and abilities.

On top of that, they both got something far more important- someone they could talk to who wouldn’t _judge_ them. Even if he couldn’t always follow Bushroot’s excited ramblings about his experiments, Liquidator was genuinely fascinated by his research and would gladly let the scientist ramble on for literal hours without getting bored or dismissing what he said. In return, Liquidator used the scientist as a test-audience for his water-based puns and one-liners to see which were crowd pleasers and which still needed to be workshopped a bit longer.

It was an interesting but fulfilling relationship that Bushroot had never had with any of his coworkers or classmates before- a genuine friend who got as much out of his time with Bushroot as the duck did with him with neither expecting nor wanting anything in return. The fact that his new friend was a water mutant and upcoming supervillain did little to change Bushroot’s opinion or feelings for the other man- in fact, he hardly even thought about the latter most of the time.

Well, at least until Liquidator had a discussion with him one day about the water source for his greenhouse…

“I’m pretty sure it comes from the Saint Canard Waterworks.” Bushroot said after giving the question some thought. “Why?” He questioned as he turned away from his research notes to look at his friend curiously.

The man in question was currently leaning against one of the greenhouse’s supply lockers with his arms crossed and a serious expression on his face, looking as if he was weighing his options carefully before speaking. “……” He finally made his decision and looked at Bushroot with that same seriousness. “There’s a drainage pond out back behind the hill, right?”

“Yeah, but that pond’s been drier than the sidewalks since the heatwave started.” The duck’s curiosity was certainly piqued now. “Why are you asking? Is something wrong?”

“Not yet.” Liquidator shook his head before looking out through the glass panes of the greenhouse towards the pond in question nearby. “I’m going to fill it for you before I leave today- consider it a reward for being a loyal customer of the Liquidator’s special watering and companionship services.”

“Oh, well, that’s really nice of you,” Bushroot began while looking out towards the pond as well. “But the Waterworks still has plenty of water, even with the heatwave, so I don’t think I’m going to run out anytime soon.”

“Trust your friendly neighborhood Liquidator- you **will** be needing it by tomorrow.” Liquidator assured him with that same seriousness from before.

“Why would I-?” Bushroot’s brain stopped mid-question as he finally figured out what Liquidator was getting at and he looked back to his friend with a curious wide-eyed stare. “You’re planning something, aren’t you?”

“As always, the amazing Dr.Bushroot has guessed the 100% correct answer on his first try! For your prize, you get to be the first to hear the good news!” When Liquidator looked back at the small scientist, his serious expression had been replaced with a devious smirk- the same one he’d worn the first time the two of them had met. “I’m planning something **big**. Something this town won’t be able to forget for a **_long_** time to come. Something that’s going to put me on the map as one of the most dangerous supervillains in all of Calisota. By the end of the day, ‘the Liquidator’ will be a household name!”

He looked so dangerous when he smirked like that.

He sounded so excited about doing something that would likely be dangerous and possibly life-altering (if not life- _threatening_ ) to many people involved.

He already acted so much like the supervillain he claimed to be- a title he’d given himself despite having never committed any major crimes (that Bushroot was aware of) until now.

By all rights, Bushroot should have been scared. He should have been nervous about having such a dangerous person in the same room as him. He should have been thinking about the quickest way he could get in contact with the police and warn them about what was to come.

Instead, the only thing Bushroot felt was excitement. Excitement and pride for his friend’s plans that were about to unfold. “Really? That’s great! I can’t wait to see what you’re gonna do! I just know it’ll be great!” He gave the other man a bright smile as he leaned forward in his excitement, wanting to know more about what the clever canine was plotting. “So, what are you going to do? Poison the water supply? Burst the city’s water mains and flood city hall? Stop the pipes from working and extort the town for money to turn them back on?”

Liquidator was momentarily taken aback from the shorter man’s eagerness, but soon had a grin on his face that was somewhere between devious and amused as he answered the other’s questions. “To satisfy your thirst for information: That’s already been attempted, with unfortunate results. Not a bad plan- I may try it next time. And you’re surprisingly close with your third and final guess.” Before the duck could ask any more questions, the dog flowed over to the work table he was seated at and held up a finger to silence him. “I’m afraid the customer service desk is closed until further notice- no more questions may be asked until business hours resume.”

Bushroot pouted at essentially being told he wasn’t allowed to know more about the supervillain’s evil scheme. “Can’t I get some sort of 24/7 support for my special membership?” He knew how much the dog loved his business jargon and jokes- it was usually the best way to get him to relent on something and worked most of the time.

Unfortunately, a shake of the head informed him that this would not be one of those times. “Sorry, but even platinum-tier customers can’t be privy to all of the business’s trade-secrets.” His earlier grin softened into the slightly softer smile that Bushroot had become familiar with over the past two weeks. “Trust me- the less you know, the better. If you know too much and get caught, you’ll probably be charged as an accessory or accomplice.”

“Son of a broccoli..” Bushroot muttered dejectedly. He really wanted to know what his villainous companion was up to, but he knew logically that Liquidator was right. Despite his frustration over the lack of information, the duck returned his friend’s smile with one of his own. “I’ll keep the news on at work, so you’d better make sure I have something interesting to watch.”

A bubbly chuckle rumbled in the dog’s chest before he wrapped an arm around the mallard’s shoulders and gave him a thumbs up with the other. “Of course! Exploits involving the Liquidator are guaranteed to enthuse and excite even the most melancholy of local news watchers, or your money back!”

Bushroot chuckled as well, subconsciously leaning into the cool touch on his shoulders. “They’d better be, or I’m calling the complaint department when I get home!”

The two laughed, excited for the next day’s events to unfold, albeit for different reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry this one ended up being a little shorter ^^"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liquidator's wicked scheme comes to fruition and Bushroot couldn't be happier for his friend's success. The rest of the town, however, couldn't be more miserable for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bushroot struck me as the type that would be happy for a friend's success, even if it made others miserable, simply because he was so unaccustomed to having friends that he'd be happy for them if they were happy- sort of a "I don't always understand what my friend does or why they do it, but I support them anyway!" thing.

While they weren’t allowed to have a TV in the lab itself, there was one in the breakroom above the coffeemaker. Bushroot tended to drink his fair share of coffee in the workplace- usually at least two or three cups a day, depending on how long his shift was- but today he’d had so many cups of coffee that he could practically feel himself shaking with the extra caffeine pumping through his veins. He didn’t even _need_ the coffee, he just wanted to make sure he was around the TV as much as possible without being called out for it. Today was Liquidator’s big debut as a supervillain, and he didn’t want to miss it!

Unfortunately (or rather fortunately, depending on your point of view), after the fifth (or was it sixth?) trip to the coffeemaker, he noticed it was nearly empty. Figuring it would serve as an even better excuse to stay in the breakroom longer, Bushroot began the process of refilling the pot. He went to the nearby sink to get the water, but his eyes stayed glued to the TV screen, hoping for some breaking news bulletin about a major water-related catastrophe. He was so distracted by the screen, that he didn’t even notice the lack of water spilling over the edge of the coffee pot despite how long it had been under the tap.

He did, however, notice something was wrong when he tried to move the coffee pot away and found that it was stuck. “Huh?” Bushroot looked back at the faucet and his eyes widened when he saw the orange, rubbery substance currently filling the coffee pot and connecting it to the mouth of the faucet. “What the..?” He gasped, an excited and giddy smile overtaking his face when he finally figured out what was going on. “He did it! He actually did it!”

Fascinated by the changes to the water, Bushroot spent quite a bit of time poking and prodding at it to test the texture, density, and elasticity. It was truly remarkable! Liquidator must have changed the chemical composition of the water from the Saint Canard Waterworks and allowed it to spread to every connected water source in the city. Brilliant!

This was amazing! This was a scientific marvel! This was-

“This is terrible!” He heard a lovely but anxious voice say as the door burst open. Looking to it, he saw his female coworker Dr. Rhoda Dendron walking in and looking particularly distressed. “Dr.Bushroot, have you heard? All of the water in our greenhouse sprinkler systems suddenly turned into-” She saw the water in the sink and gasped. “In here, too?!”

“Huh..?” Bushroot blinked dumbly for a moment before looking back at the rubber-filled coffee pot in the sink. “O-Oh! Yeah! I was just refilling the coffeepot and this happened! Pretty weird, huh?”

“Terrible is more the word that I would use..” Rhoda said with a troubled frown while walking closer to look at the sink. “Who would do such a thing?”

Bushroot bit the inside of his bill to keep his face from smiling. “Must be some new supervillain or something- this seems like something one of those costumed weirdos would do, right?”

While Rhoda expressed her concern for the state of the town’s water supply and her worry over the health of the university’s plant life, Bushroot couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of warmth and pride. Liquidator had done exactly what he’d set out to do: He’d left a big impact on the town that no one would be able to ignore.

Soon everyone would come to know and fear the name of “The Liquidator”.

* * *

With the city in the middle of a water crisis during a heatwave, the university decided to send everyone home so they could instead divert their financial resources into paying the Liquidator’s extortion fees for bottled water in an attempt to save their plants. While Bushroot did worry for the safety and well-being of the plants, he was excited by the idea of being let out of work early so he could have more time to follow Liquidator’s exploits via the radio and TV stations that were giving live broadcasts of the epidemic.

Over the course of that single day, Bushroot got to learn more about Liquidator than he had in the two weeks he’d known the supervillain: According to the news, he used to be the billionaire bottled-water tycoon known as Bud Flood. Bushroot never paid much attention to the news before, but he did remember reading something a couple of weeks ago about the businessman being a suspect in the poisoning of his competitors water supplies but, according to the town’s local superhero Darkwing Duck, he had accidentally fallen into one of the contaminated vats and perished. The timing lined up perfectly- Liquidator showed up in his greenhouse only a day or two after Bud Flood’s reported accident, and it would certainly explain why he felt like he had nowhere else to go if he was allowing people to think he was dead. What an intriguing backstory full of interesting twists and turns!

He didn’t get to see Liquidator at the greenhouse that afternoon after work, but he was okay with that- extorting the city for money must be hard work. Besides, he was sure he’d get to see him again soon so he could congratulate him properly!

Later that afternoon, around the time where it could be called early evening rather than late afternoon anymore, however, those hopes were crudely dashed as he set to clean up his dishes after dinner…

His apartment wasn’t anything special, just a little two-room unit with a combination kitchen and living area and a bedroom with an adjoined bathroom. He could probably look into getting a larger place if he really tried, but it felt cozy enough for one person to live in. Besides, being able to see and hear the living room TV while cooking or doing the dishes was a nice way to spend the evening!

He hummed along to some soda jingle playing in the background as he set his dishes in the sink. When he started to turn the handle for the sink, he had to pause and take a moment to laugh quietly to himself. “Oh, right- no water. Guess I should have asked him for a bottle earlier. Ah well, one night won’t hurt-” He was about to turn the faucet back to the off position when he was suddenly startled by a rush of water that came out all at once. “?!” Bushroot stared at the stream of clear liquid as it evened out to a normal flow- NORMAL. The water was back to **NORMAL**. That meant- “What happened to Liquidator..?” His voice was quiet, barely audible due to the fears and uncertainties choking him with worry.

Then, with all the plot-convenient timing the news broadcasts always seemed to have in their town, the commercials were suddenly cut off by the voice of that annoying news anchor that Bushroot usually tried to ignore. “Breaking news! The viscous villain known as the Liquidator’s reign of terror over the city has been thwarted by Darkwing Duck!”

“What?!” Bushroot turned the water back off and ran over to the couch so he could watch the television properly. “But- how?! He’s made of water, how could he-?!”

“The masked vigilante has refused to comment on how he defeated the supervillain, but has assured everyone that he won’t be causing any trouble for anyone any time soon. While the liquid-terror’s location is unknown, one thing’s for sure-” The reporter went on to say while the screen showed pictures of Audobon Bay and several other small bodies of water throughout the city such as swimming pools behind him. “Everyone in Saint Canard is happy to have their water back during the hottest season of the year!”

The reporter continued talking, but Bushroot’s mind didn’t hear the rest of what the loud-mouthed egomaniac had to say. He was too busy processing the fact that his friend had _lost_ and that the only one who now knew his whereabouts was the hero who defeated him- information the caped crusader probably wouldn’t be too keen on sharing with someone like him.

Bushroot grabbed the remote and turned off the TV, preferring to sit in silence rather than hear the white noise of the reporter speaking in the back ground. He let his head fall into his hands while his elbows were propped up on his knees.

He should have known this would happen- Liquidator was a supervillain and Darkwing Duck was Saint Canard’s resident superhero. A fight between them was inevitable, even with all of Liquidator’s training and practice with his powers.

Knowing these things, however, didn’t make it hurt any less…

“Liqui…” He said in a shaky voice before crying quietly into his hands.

He hoped beyond hope that the reporter was wrong- that there would be another breaking news bulletin soon with word on a water-related crime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The downside of being friends with a supervillain: You have to see them lose more often than they win.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With his only friend gone after his defeat at the hands of the city's protector, Bushroot takes a walk through town to clear his head. On his walk, though, a certain lawn-ornament catches his eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably found certain parts of this chapter funnier than others will, but I couldn't resist writing them, anyway x3

The heatwave finally started to break a few days after Liquidator’s defeat. With nothing better to do and in desperate need of fresh air that didn’t feel stale or suffocating, Bushroot spent the evening walking aimlessly through town.

Bushroot had gone back to the greenhouse every day since the “hard water crisis” (the term the media was using to describe the event wasn’t very imaginative), often staying until at least midnight in the hopes that Liquidator would show up just like before and they could go back to their afternoon routine of tending to the plants and talking about everything and nothing at all. Yet, every day, he left with the same disappointment of not seeing his friend.

It was strange, really: He’d spent so many years feeling lonely and unwanted. It was part of his everyday life- get up alone, go to work and have some minor social interactions that never really went anywhere, tend to his plants alone, then go home and spend the rest of his evening alone before getting up to do it all again in the morning. Then, out of the blue, a random supervillain breaks into his life and after only knowing him for two weeks Bushroot has trouble coping with the prospect of never seeing him again?

Maybe he really should see a shrink like his family always told him- there had to be something wrong with him to get that attached so quickly to someone so violent, so cruel, so conniving, so…

So charming…

So polite…

So eager to actually _listen_ to him for a change…

Oh, who was he kidding? Even with his supervillainy ways, Liquidator was still one of the only people in Bushroot’s life who actually gave him some decent compassion and respect. **Of course** he’d miss the guy- he was one of Bushroot’s only friends since……actually, he was Bushroot’s ONLY friend since _college_ , maybe even since **_high school_** now that he really thought about it. Gosh, he was so lonely…

With a heavy sigh, Bushroot kicked a pebble on the sidewalk and watched it roll across the street. He’d taken this walk to get some fresh air and try to get his mind off of how lonely he was, but all it did was serve to make him feel even more lonely and miserable than before. It didn’t help that he thought about his friend so often that literally everything was reminding him of the canine. That sprinkler spraying water over the lawn, those zinnias that were blooming like the ones in his greenhouse that he helped him water, that weird looking fountain statue shaped like Liquidator, that tree that-

Wait, WHAT?!

Bushroot had to do a double take to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. Across the street, in the yard the pebble had landed in, was a lawn sprinkler system with a distinctive centerpiece- a concrete statue that looked EXACTLY like the liquid villain.

Everything about it was correct from the face to his usual body-proportions when he wasn’t connected to a larger mass of water. Not to mention there was the odd position the statue was in- angled as it was, it just looked like an art piece, but, if he imagined it being more level with the ground, it looked like the concrete had dried while the figure was walking. Its face even had a look of surprise on it!

It was too accurate to be **just** a statue.

“Liqui..?” The duck asked in a quiet whisper as he stared at the statue. Just as he was about to go across the street to examine it more closely, the front door of the house that the front yard belonged to opened and he quickly ducked down into some bushes to hide. “!!”

“Come on, dad!” A red-haired duckling yelled as she ran out into the yard with a duffel bag on her shoulder and a hockey stick in her hand. “We’re gonna be late for the new-players party!”

“Not if SOMEBODY stops eating brownies for five minutes and gets out here!” An older duck who looked to be about the same age as Bushroot said while walking out of the house as well and helping the girl load her stuff into the car parked in their driveway, pausing only briefly to turn off the water in his sprinkler system. “Launchpad, let’s GO!!” He yelled back towards the house.

“Comin’, DW!” A slightly younger and much larger duck shouted while running out of the house. He shoved a brownie into his mouth while quickly closing the door behind him, soon getting into the driver’s seat of the car and starting it up. “Don’t worry, Gos- we’ll be there in no-time flat!”

“We’d better!” The duckling said while grinning wickedly. “No newbies are allowed on MY team until they’ve survived their first Gosalyn Mallard surprise practice drill!”

“Can you at least wait until AFTER they get their gear on this time? I’d like to get to the first game of the season WITHOUT getting yelled at by some kid’s angry PTA-mom in the hospital..” The oldest duck said with a shake of his head and an eye roll that spoke of many hospital trips and apology letters.

Once the small group was buckled in, the car drove off down the street at a speed that was honestly frightening to watch.

Bushroot looked at the house after the car was out of sight- there were no lights on, so everyone who lived there was probably already gone…

It was getting late, so everyone else in the neighborhood was already gone or just sitting down to dinner, meaning there was no one else around…

He could probably-

No, no, that would be wrong! It would be stealing!

……

Wait, would it really be stealing since it was a living person? Wouldn’t that make it more like kidnapping? Also, was it really kidnapping if you were taking someone from a place they most likely didn’t actually WANT to be and freeing them? Wasn’t that more like RESCUING??

Okay, maybe THAT part wasn’t so bad, but, even still, it’s not like he had a way to carry a solid concrete statue all the way back to his apartment-

And then the flat-bed tow-truck pulled up in front of one of the houses next to the property that Bushroot was hiding on. The driver got out, so distracted with trying to open his lunchbox and get out some donuts that he didn’t even notice he’d dropped the keys on the sidewalk on his way into the house.

……

So, this was really happening, huh?

……

The universe just **conveniently** gave him everything he needed to grab the statue and get out of there?

……………

Well, who was he to argue with the universe?

Acting quickly, Bushroot exited his leafy camouflage and grabbed the keys. It took some time to adjust the driver’s seat, get the truck pulled around to the other side of the road, and figure out how to work the levers enough to lower the flat-bed close enough to the ground that he wouldn’t have to lift the statue to get it on the truck.

Once he had the truck’s bed low enough, he grabbed the chains connected to the winch and tied them off around Liquidator’s stone body- hoping that he wouldn’t accidentally break anything vital. (Then again, he WAS made of water, so he should be fine, right?)

Bushroot hesitated for a moment with his hand on the winch’s lever.

Once he did this, there’d be no going back: He’d have to steal the truck to get Liquidator back to his apartment. If he got caught, he’d be charged with grand-theft auto at best and aiding a known criminal at worst. In either scenario, he’d be serving some major jail time.

Could he really go through with this..?

“……” He almost took his hand off of the lever, but, when he looked back over to Liquidator’s face frozen in a look of surprise and shock, he felt something stab him in the heart. “Don’t worry, Liqui- I’ll get you out of here.” Bushroot said quietly to himself more than to the statue before activating the winch.

It made a lot of noise as it pulled on the statue and began to separate it from its base and the pipes that had been run up into it. It lasted for a few agonizingly long moments until, with a final loud “clang”, the statue was freed from its moorings and pulled up onto the bed of the truck.

The noise, unfortunately, caused many of the neighbors to finally notice what was going on and start gathering at the windows and doors to see what was happening- including the actual owner of the truck who was NOT too happy to see his vehicle being used by someone else.

Bushroot practically dove into the driver’s seat, scrambling to get the door closed and locked behind him before speeding off down the street. He kept his head down as low as possible until he was far away from the neighborhood and certain that no one had followed him.

As he drove to his apartment, Bushroot swallowed down the guilt he felt over stealing the truck and damaging someone else’s property (though it HAD been a person who was essentially being held against his will), and focused on forming a plan to separate Liquidator from his concrete prison. He’d figure everything out eventually once his heart stopped pounding so loudly that he couldn’t hear himself think.

Strangely enough, the beating of his heart didn’t feel like it was entirely from panic. He briefly wondered if he should be worried about that…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One plot-hole I don't see addressed that often is how Darkwing just left Liquidator's statue ON HIS LAWN. Logically, someone should've recognized it or Liquidator would have an idea of where Darkwing lived/who he was connected to since he was kept there for so long. Oh well, guess it's the sort of thing that helps fic writers out later xD


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bushroot has Liquidator back at his apartment- now he just needs a plan to get him out of his concrete full-body prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short. Sorry >~<"

To Bushroot’s surprise, getting Liquidator to his apartment was the EASY part.

Granted, getting a solid concrete statue up two flights of stairs without making a ton of noise was difficult, but he’d had to move a wooden dresser on his own before and the concept was pretty similar- wrap it in towels to avoid scuffing or breaking, tie it to a piece of cardboard so it slides easily, then just tie something to the thickest part and drag it until you reach your destination. After that was done, he drove the truck out to the outskirts of town, thoroughly cleaned it with a portable vacuum cleaner and some wet wipes to make sure he didn’t leave any evidence behind, and then caught a cab back into town once he was close enough. By the time he got home it was a little past two in the morning, and he was so exhausted that he passed out on the couch next to where he’d left Liquidator’s statue in the living room.

The HARD part, however, was figuring out how to get his friend out of his petrified state.

It was a weekend, so thankfully he had plenty of time away from work to do his research and form a plan. Another thing he was thankful for was that, while the university itself was closed on the weekend, the library was still open for students and faculty who wanted to study or check out reading material.

Bushroot had some experience with chemistry when it came to how certain chemicals affected the biology of plants and animals, but it wasn’t his main field of study, so that meant that he had to do A LOT of research to figure out the best ways to separate water from concrete besides giving it months to evaporate out. It took almost all day hunched over a series of books and scribbling notes and formulas but, finally, he’d found a method that seemed feasible: If he could break the concrete down into small enough pieces, then there was a pair of chemical compounds he could use- one for softening the concrete down into its base minerals and liquids and one to separate and purify water from the denser minerals that should, theoretically, work to separate Liquidator from the concrete mixture.

With that in mind, Bushroot used his faculty keys to “borrow” a few supplies. Namely a hammer, a chisel, and the necessary chemicals he would need for his plan to work. He was lucky that no one saw him take anything off-campus as he rushed back to his apartment, as he would have looked odd (and suspicious) carrying around implements that had NOTHING to do with botany.

Dawning a pair of protective gloves, goggles, and a face mask, Bushroot spent the remaining hours of his weekend working around the clock to break the concrete statue into pieces (wincing and apologizing every time he broke another piece off) and setting everything up in his bathtub. Once he had all the pieces broken down into small enough bits, he started adding the softening solution to further break the solid chunks down and mixed the whole batch with extra water from the tap for good measure. After giving the pseudo-slurry some time to set, he added in the chemical compound used to separate the minerals from the water, which in itself was a lengthy process that involved repeatedly stirring the liquid to agitate and bond the denser minerals together before scooping out the resulting sludge and sediments to keep them from mixing back together.

By the time the water was more than 75% clear, the exhausted duck’s eyes had trouble staying open. A distant part of his brain wondered if it was from not sleeping or eating since he started everything earlier that day (or was it the other day by now? The hours kind of blurred together since there wasn’t a window in his bathroom..), or if it was from breathing in the stuffy, contaminated air that smelled funny even through the mask.

Bushroot sat on the floor, his head and left shoulder leaning against the wall by the tub with his right hand idling on the rim as he watched the water and waited for a chance to pull out more of the sludge in the hopes that what he was doing was **actually** helping and not just making everything worse.

His eyelids fluttered and the world began to grown dimmer and dimmer with each attempt at opening them, until he succumbed to his exhaustion with one last thought:

‘ _Please come back to me- I need you._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the short chapter- longer with Liquidator POV next time, promise!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liquidator wakes up with questions, answers, panic, and more questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! First Liquidator POV chapter xD

The first thing Liquidator noticed when his consciousness returned to him was how much lighter he felt. Before, everything about his body had been heavy and immovable. Now, though, he felt light and free- the feelings he’d become accustomed to since his mutation into the living mass of liquid.

The second thing he noticed was the slightly heavier feeling of something contaminating his liquid in one area. Forming his eyes answered the question as to what that something was. He spotted some sludge on the far end of whatever vessel his body was currently being contained in. Hating the feeling of the crystal-clear body he took such pride in being contaminated by impurities, he focused and pulled the rest of his water out of and away from the sludge, leaving it pooled on its own on the far end of his container.

And the third thing he noticed was the feeling of something more solid resting idly in his water. Moving so that his recently formed eyes could look at the side of his container, he spotted a gloved hand at the end of a white-clothed sleeve dipping over the side of the vessel so that the arm lay on the rim and the covered fingertips skimmed his water.

Liquidator’s first thoughts on the situation were that he’d been given to some laboratory for testing after his defeat at the hands of “the terror that flaps in the night”. Well, he wasn’t some guinea pig for a bunch of no-necked shut-in’s to drool over as some sort of new scientific marvel for them to stick in a centrifuge!

With a bubbly growl to his voice, Liquidator gathered all of his water together and formed it into his familiar shape with a bit more bulk around the upper body to appear more intimidating and rose up out of his container. “Today’s special- a two-for-one beat down courtesy of the one and only LIQUIDATOR! Act now, supplies are limited!” To his surprise (and mild disappointment) his dramatic entrance and one-liner fell flat as the only other person in the small room was a lone man on the floor by his container. Further surprising and frustrating was the fact that his entrance garnered no reaction whatsoever from the seated scientist. With a frustrated scowl, he picked the scientist up by the front of his lab coat and glared into his goggle-covered eyes. “The surgeon general says ‘ignoring supervillains is detrimental to your health’, so you’d better-!”

His threat was interrupted by a groggy, tired sound finally leaving the previously silent masked man’s throat. “Ngh…” He lifted his head slightly, apparently just now realizing who was in front of him. “Buddy..?”

“!!” The familiar voice shocked Liquidator right out of his previous aggression, making him stare at the small scientist whose covered features were becoming increasingly familiar to him the longer he looked. “Reggie?” He reached up with one hand and removed the mask and goggles, revealing the duck’s familiar face to him. “Reggie, what’s going on?”

“Nmh..sta…a..tue..” Was the only coherent thing to leave the duck’s beak before his head flopped back down and his eyes shut.

“Reggie? Reggie!” Liquidator tried to gently shake the other man awake, but he didn’t stir in the slightest. With a slightly aggravated huff, he set the duck back down on the tiled floor.

Finally taking in his surroundings, Liquidator saw that he wasn’t actually in some laboratory- instead, he was in a small, sparsely decorated bathroom. What he had previously assumed to be some sort of container was actually just an old off-white bathtub. It was that odd combination of too nice to be a cheap motel bathroom but not nice enough to be some sort of corporate-owned building that lead him to the conclusion that he was in a cheap apartment complex- likely Bushroot’s home.

What stood out the most in the cramped room, however, were the buckets of what looked like improperly-mixed wet cement that had been set out around the other side of the tub and on top of the toilet. He noticed a glob of the same substance sitting in the tub that he’d just emerged from and figured that was probably what he felt mixed in with his body earlier.

While looking at the buckets, however, he noticed one of them that was closest to the tub’s opposite corner. Unlike the other buckets with their thick layers of sludge and sediment, this one contained a significantly clearer liquid. Out of curiosity, Liquidator placed the tip of his finger in the bucket and concentrated on reading its contents.

It was an interesting mixture: Hydrogen, oxygen, chlorine-

WAIT!

Those compounds together made-

“Reggie!” Liquidator turned back to the shorter man with an urgent tone to his voice and tried to shake him awake again, this time more roughly than he had before. “How long have you been inhaling this stuff?!”

Despite his shouting and shaking, the duck remained unconscious. Quietly cursing under his breath, Liquidator picked Bushroot up and carried him out of the bathroom and into the adjoining bedroom. After setting Bushroot down on the bed, Liquidator got the only window in the room open with the hopes that it would draw in enough fresh air for his still flesh-and-blood friend.

“Sorry, but you’ll thank me for this later..” He said to the unconscious duck before he began to remove his clothes. The opened lab coat, shoes, and socks came off easy enough, but the buttons on the pants and shirt proved more of a challenge to the watery canine and his fluid fingers- the pieces of plastic slipping through and occasionally into his digits. “To heck with it- I’ll steal you some nicer clothes later..” Letting out another frustrated growl, Liquidator firmly grasped the sides of the shirt and tore it open, destroying many of the buttons in the process.

After repeating the process with the button on Bushroot’s pants, he gathered up the ruined clothing and the other articles he’d already taken off (he left the duck his modesty by keeping his underpants on- those would probably be the least contaminated) and hurried back into the bathroom.

Clearing the bathtub of the residual concrete, Liquidator summoned a strong flow of water from the bathtub’s faucet and left the clothes to soak in the clean water for the time being. While the clothes were being dealt with, he grabbed the troublesome bucket from earlier and carried it into the kitchen.

“Let’s hope you keep your cupboards stocked, Reggie..” Liquidator mumbled to himself while rummaging through the various cabinets and cupboards. After a moment, he found exactly what he was looking for. “Aha! Just what the doctor ordered! Well, what he WOULD order if he were awake.” He said while pulling out a box of baking soda.

The clever canine diligently dissolved the baking soda into the bucket of chemicals, going slowly as to not trigger any unfavorable reactions. Once the threatening concoction was properly neutralized, he let out a relieved sigh and walked back into the bedroom to check on the resting scientist.

Placing a hand on the duck’s forehead, Liquidator frowned at the unusually high amount of heat that he could feel seeping into his watery palm. “Oh Reggie, what have you done..?”

* * *

Bushroot didn’t wake up for several hours.

Liquidator did what he could to ensure the duck’s full recovery: Carefully washed the other man’s face repeatedly, taking great care to make sure the beak was fully cleansed of any lingering residue. Placed a cold hand on his forehead for twenty minutes once every hour to help keep his temperature down. And, with the aid of the adjoining bathroom’s faucet and some cleaned out buckets, used hot water combined with his own mastery of liquids to humidify the air and make sure the water molecules wouldn’t be blown away by the fresh air coming in through the window.

In between the time he spent taking care of the other man, Liquidator tried to keep himself busy with little things such as finishing the cleanup of Bushroot’s contaminated clothes and looking around the apartment. Unfortunately, cleaning up proved more entertaining than the option of looking around as the duck really didn’t have much available in the way of entertainment other than the television set in the living room. He managed to freeze one of his fingers long enough to turn the television on, but it was the time of day where nothing good was playing, anyway.

Returning to the bathroom to see if there was anything else he could do, Liquidator noticed something he’d missed before- a notebook and a set of tools sitting on the back of the toilet. Out of curiosity and boredom, Liquidator froze one of his fingers again and used it to flick through the pages of the notebook.

It seemed to be a scientific journal used for making observation notes on various types of plants. As he got closer to the more recent pages, though, the notes changed from plant-based biological observations to chemical formulas and theories. There was a crude drawing of Liquidator himself featured on one of the pages with the basic formula for cement written off to the side. After that were pages upon pages of notes and formulas, many of which was scribbled over and/or re-written with arrows drawn from one side of the page to the other to suggest a possible link between solutions. Judging by the amount of writing, Bushroot must have spent several hours trying to figure out a way to separate Liquidator from his stone prison.

As Liquidator glanced at the numerous buckets of concrete sludge that still filled the small bathroom, he realized that it must have taken several more hours actually getting him out the cement…

Closing the book once again, Liquidator’s eyes drifted over to the tools that had been lying next to it- a hammer and a chisel.

“Glad I wasn’t awake to feel THAT..” He commented while picking up the chisel and looking at the normally flat-edged implement that had been significantly dulled by going above and beyond to fulfill its purpose.

With a shake of his head, Liquidator set the tool back down and wandered back into the bedroom to check on Bushroot for what felt like the fiftieth time. In the process of doing so, he noticed something he’d missed before while undressing the duck and treating him- his gloves were still on. Honestly, they’d been very low on his priority-driven radar that he hadn’t even noticed they were there.

“Might as well get rid of those, too..” He flowed over to the bed and began carefully peeling the first rubber-covering off of the dozing doctor’s digits. Getting them off, however, revealed something else he’d failed to notice before: **Blood**. “!!” Liquidator’s eyes widened in momentary panic as he tossed the glove aside and moved Bushroot’s hand to get a better view of it. “Did you get that stuff in your gloves?!!”

After rinsing the other man’s hand off, the supervillain was relieved to see that the wounds weren’t from chemical burns. No, they were simply blisters, most likely from the hours he spent breaking the stone apart with the hammer and chisel, that had burst and bled into the glove. Removing its twin revealed similar blisters on Bushroot’s other hand that made Liquidator frown.

‘ _Why would you go this far?_ ’ Liquidator wondered not for the first time that day, silently taking both of Bushroot’s hands in his own and submerging the blisters in his cool water to ease their pain.

People were inherently greedy and selfish- that was the law of the world that he, as Bud Flood, had long come to accept in life. No one did anything without expecting something in return.

Parents raised their children and gave them what they needed to survive. The “good” ones went even further and have their children things they didn’t need but merely wanted to make them happy. They encouraged and/or pushed their children to do well in school and find good jobs as adults so they would be financially stable. This was all just training and compensation, though, so that the parents could cash in on their children’s success and finances and have someone to either take care of them or pay to have someone else take care of them when they were too feeble to do so themselves anymore.

At work, people would be polite and genial to their coworkers and superiors, offering to do tasks that went above their assigned responsibilities for the sake of appearing helpful. They were all just trying to make themselves look better, though- they all secretly wanted to get on the good side of the higher-ups so they could get benefits like being considered first for promotions or raises. As soon as someone got in their way- someone better at pretending to be nice or who seemed more intelligent or talented- you’d see their true colors come out as they worked to sabotage the competition without getting caught. Who cares if it ruins someone’s life? All that matters is climbing the corporate ladder to the top.

Even romance, the ultimate, life-defining source of happiness according to so many people, came with a price. Falling in love was supposed to be a grand thing, a way to find someone else to spend your life with- someone to share your happiness with and lean on in times of hardship- that so called “missing piece” of yourself. In the end, though, all anyone really gets is extra emotional baggage from dealing with your own problems as well as someone else’s in exchange for the rights to say “Look, I’m in a relationship with that person- I’m normal!” and feel included for once. Eventually the high of happiness and romance fades and, when you realize you’ve condemned yourself to being with someone whom you have almost nothing in common with, you either kill your soul with the constant fights caused by bitterness and despair for the sake of “making it work” or you play heartbreak-russian-roulette to see who’ll pull the trigger first and end the pain for all parties involved.

Everybody always wanted something from him, that’s what Bud Flood had come to expect. It was why he’d worked so hard maintaining his double-life: To the public, he was a good, honest man who cared about the safety of his customers and put their needs first, making him seem kind and approachable. Behind closed doors, he was a ruthless, tyrannical businessman who would doom whomever he needed to just to get ahead in life.

After all, anyone else would do the same if they could, right? They would act kind and friendly to make him lower his guard, then wait for the chance to take something from him- his money, his success, his heart- you name it. In the end, it would happen one way or another..

………

So **_why_** was he wasting so much time with this meek, anxiety-prone, attention-starved, blabber-mouth of a scientist who wasn’t even THAT attractive?

If he had to pick a reason, it was probably because the duck was so transparent and straight-forward that he was easy for Liquidator to understand and predict. Bushroot was lonely, eager for attention and companionship, and honest to a fault (the guy probably couldn’t lie to save his own life). In a situation that came down to “take advantage or be taken advantage of”, Bushroot was much more likely to be the one taken advantage of since he would bend over backwards for the supervillain’s approval. He was simple and plain and far from complex.

At least, that’s how it had started out…

While the scientist was still very obviously desperate for attention and approval, Liquidator had to admit to himself that there were things about him that were less predictable than he originally thought. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought the bird would go as far as he did to free him from his concrete prison- to expose himself to dangerous chemicals and spend who knows how long breaking his solidified body apart just to set him free. Sure, they’d built some form of casual friendship since they’d met in the greenhouse, but they’d only known each other for a couple weeks! Liquidator doubted anyone else in his former life, people he’d known for **_years_** , would have gone so far to help him..

Would Bushroot want anything in return for his help? A slice of the profit from Liquidator’s next scheme? Reimbursement for his time and services? He could ask for just about anything-

“L…Liqui…?” A tired voice asked him from the bed.

Looking down at the small scientist’s face, Liquidator saw a pair of barely open blue eyes looking in his direction. Bushroot still looked exhausted and a bit out of it, barely keeping his focus on the water-dog’s general direction for more than a second before he had to jerk his drifting eyes back in place. He’d likely need some more rest before he could be trusted on his own again.

“The one and only- sometimes imitated, but never bested!” Liquidator joked with a grin, moving one hand up to touch Bushroot’s head and check his temperature. “So, how is Saint Canard’s number one criminal-aiding scientist feeling?”

“Dizzy…tired..” He mumbled before giving Liquidator a tired smile. “And..happy…you’re here..”

“……” Liquidator was tempted to ask his questions now, but he bit his tongue and used the hand still on Bushroot’s forehead to gently touch the side of his face. “Thanks to you..” His earlier grin softened slightly as he spoke. “Now, get some more rest- doctor’s orders.”

“Not a doctor..” The still sleepy duck replied before his eyes drifted closed of their own accord and he fell back asleep.

Liquidator’s smile fell slightly once the duck’s eyes were shut once more, leaving him alone with his thoughts again. Part of him still wanted to know what Bushroot expected to get for helping him. Part of him had a feeling he already knew the answer. And a third, smaller part of him told him what he WANTED the answer to be…

He took the hand he was still holding and brought it to his lips, giving it a light kiss. “Sleep easy, Reggie- you’ve earned it..”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference, the compound that Bushroot was working with was a type of hydrochloric acid: Not only is it dangerous to get it on your skin, it's also dangerous to inhale for lengthy periods of time, hence Liquidator's panic when he realized what it was.
> 
> To treat it properly, you should ALWAYS go to a hospital. Since Liquidator's a wanted felon, however, he did everything else you're supposed to do to help people who've inhaled the fumes for too long: Remove them from the area, get them plenty of fresh air, remove any clothing that may have been exposed to the fumes as well so they don't continue to inhale them, and, ideally, repeatedly wash their face and body off to make sure there's no lingering residue for them to inhale later before having them breathe in humidified air to flush everything out of their lungs.
> 
> Now, having said this, I am NOT a doctor or a chemist, so please just contact 911 if you're ever exposed to these chemicals!


End file.
